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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end, long distance training and Femme Domme phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  ...


January 1, 2011

Saturday, January 1st, 2011


Whatever you do, or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.



So far, so good.

Happy New Year!

xo, Angela


Of Comfort and Joy

Tuesday, January 12th, 2010

As you probably noticed, there wasn’t a lot of Christmas nor New Year’s  Hoopla here at  Zen this year.  Well, things just didn’t pan out quite as I had planned.  Nonetheless,  I  will remember the past holiday as a bittersweet one, not without its blessings, and certainly one of learning lessons. 

Someone close to me experienced an incredible loss and, because I care about this person, my heart ached (and is still aching) for her.  Except for Christmas Day, spent with my mother and family, I was about the business of giving what little help and comfort I could to my friend.  Which is exactly and rightly what I should have been doing.  But that is more about my private life and — if you don’t mind — we’ll just leave it there.

All I really want you to know is that I truly did learn a lot — mostly lessons of love and about doing the right thing.  Which means I’ve changed in very grown-up ways and am a much better, much fuller human being moving into the New Year.  And I have a heart full of gratitude.  It’s a lovely way to fill a heart, don’t you think?

So … because December’s end and January’s beginning were so topsy-turvy, I didn’t work very much, got backed up on email and just generally put this part of my world kinda-sorta on hold.  I was around — here and there – briefly and fleetingly.  It was a "catch-me-if-you-can" situation.  Some of you did, indeed,  catch me.  How does that work when I’m up to my eyes in personal turmoil and you’re calling for a nasty round of Fetish Phone Sex?

Well, if you were an established client with whom I’ve built a rapport, I probably gave you a brief peek into what was going on this side of the Phone Sex Curtain.  You deserved that honesty from me. 

Then again, if you were a first time caller, I was my professional self doing what needed to be done in my very particular way … focused on you and your needs, astute attention to detail, aiming for a slam-bang finish.  You didn’t need to know that my heart was bleeding. And so … I kept that from you.  As I should have.

Back in the saddle this past week, I’m pretty sure I succeeded, as quite a few of you new fellas have called me back, some even taking the time to leave awesome feedback and recommend me to others.  I am truly grateful and did follow up with Thank You emails.

But there’s always the exception, isn’t there?  Because, during that time,  I did have a new caller leave me a one star review (ouch) saying: "Not my cup of tea at all! I have to wonder if these positive feedbacks are from friends or something?"  Maybe I was seriously off that day, because I’m certainly not perfect — not by any stretch of anyone’s imagination.  Or maybe I had one of my visceral, gut reactions (rare, but they do happen) to the guy’s seriously bad vibes and was just going through the motions. 

I really don’t know, because — according to my records — the gentleman spent all of two minutes with me.  If you do ever find your way to my blog, Mr. X — this is assuming, of course, that you ever actually read — I am curious:  Do you think a sexual encounter takes two minutes?  Is that how you fuck?  I have, of course, blocked your from further contact.  Good riddance to bad rubbish.

New Year’s Eve I actually worked, which is rare, because I don’t do too many holidays.  But it had been a good experience last year and I absolutely abhor going out into the  mayhem … so I figured, why not.  Plus I’d finally stopped by my P.O. Box to pick up what I believed would be a few Christmas presents the previous day.  What were you guys thinking?  It took me three trips to get all those packages into my house!

So I opened a bottle of bubbly and sat in front of my fireplace unwrapping presents and taking calls.  Oh, and getting a little bit tipsy.  It was divine and I am forever grateful. And if you hear me saying I bought a new book or new books (which is usually the case … who can resist when your at the center of pile upon pile of tomes?) this entire year?  Put me over your lap, pull down my panties and spank my little FemDom tush.  You gifted me so many awesome books that I have plenty to last, maybe even until 2011. Seriously.

Anyway … here we are twelve days into the new year.  I worked my ass of this pass week, taking calls from (almost) dusk to (almost) dawn.  Regular life is back in its place and I’m glad it is.  Of course we do have Valentine’s Day looming. 

And in between here and there?  I’ve had more than a few delightfully wicked calls, which we will keep a secret between you and me.   And — when I finally settled down to catch up email — found your always-attentive and appreciative missives:  

A Christmas Quickie from faithful and dependable Mr. D (he keeps me in headsets for my phone) : 

Merry Christmas, precious Angela! Hope you are happy and  … maybe shopping … maybe for shoes…. maybe with someone else’s money! Know I am thinking about you and wish you a joyful Holiday Season.  Lotsa Luv!

A Happy New Year from Mr. B (who calls even when on a budget):

I hope you are well and having a wonderful holiday season.

I want you to know how much I appreciate you. You are a real woman who does not hide behind your job.  While you have to be guarded in your business you have been so nice to me and it has meant a WHOLE LOT!  Thank You! 

You are so real and so honest it is that "human touch" which makes you so much more special.  Whether you are a seductress, a "hottie," an author, a thinker, one of the socially conscious, a promoter of not only yourself, but even of your competition, a partial/almost fiancee, or a positive force in JewBoy’s life, (my life and the lives of so many others) … you are, above all else, a decent woman and, for that, I am filled with affection and gratitude.

You are special: and I wish You an appropriately SPECIAL 2010.

Much love and best regards

And  — wouldn’t you know it — a review of AVATAR from PQS (Zen’s very own and precious Pervert Savant):

There are lots of nice special effects but the plot of the thing is really simple.  The overall effect is sort of like seeing “Dances With Wolves” in a video game format.  Worth seeing for the mechanics chanics of it all (You get to wear wowie 3-D glasses!)  But overall, the whole thing left me wondering why they couldn’t have put more of the $350 Million it cost to make and promote into something as basic as screenwriting.  

The dialog is tired, the plot is extremely predictable, and lots of it seemed purloined from other blockbuster sci-fi pics of the recent past.  Sigourney Weaver even gets pulled out of Alien to do a very lame role as a “scientist/anthropologist”.  They also borrowed freely from her earlier “man in mechanical moving machine fights alien” to do an “alien fights man in mechanical moving machine” scene.  The noble aliens of Avatar take on corporate driven evil Earthlings with…what else…bows and arrows!  Jeez…the more I write about this, the worse it seems. 

So, all in all, yeah … I think it’s going to be a very good year and an absolutely wonderful Valentine’s Day.

xo, Angela


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New Year Tidings

Thursday, December 31st, 2009

The merry year is born like the bright berry from the naked thorn.

~Hartley Coleridge

xo, Angela

Rain of Error, etc.

Sunday, January 4th, 2009

First off, I somewhat, but not quite, stole the title from Salon’s and Tom Tomorrow’s This Modern World, which you really should just go see for yourself (2008 Year in Review  PART 1:  GOODBYE TO ALL THAT and PART 2: THE END OF AN ERROR).  Go ahead.  I’ll wait right here. 

Secondly, sorry I missed ringing out the old with you  … you know, like we did last year?  I thought I’d shake things up this year.  Instead of my usual quiet and sober non-working evening at home, I actually worked.  Not only did I work, but I did so while drinking champagne.  I even dressed up seriously sexy in red lingerie and stockings.  Which, despite Phone Sex Mythology, is something PSO’s rarely do. I mostly prefer the comfort of cut-offs and t-shirts to latex and leather when I’m hanging out at home, thank you very much.

Even though alcohol has never been my drug of choice, I must say that I’d quite forgotten just how divine pink champagne tastes.  Not to mention the yummy-licious halo-high I get when drinking it.  And so I buzzed right along, straight through the evening and into the New Year, chatting, dominating, laughing, teasing, spanking with a few regulars and healthy sprinkling of adventurous new callers.  I seem to remember someone barking for me and another climbing atop the famous Angela St. Lawrence Party Favor Perch to serve at my guests’ every whim.  But it was all in good fun and keeping with the holiday spirit and all that … dontcha know?

Best of all:  No hangover!  I hate hangovers!  One of the reasons I’ve never taken to alcohol so much is, I do believe, the hangover aspect.  And to have to deal with one the very first day of the new 365 would have been a serious remora [ <—- remember that word ]. 

A major thank you to the special caller who was there at the stroke of Midnight reminding me to take aspirin before tucking myself in.  Remembering hearing that loss of fluids significantly contribute to hangovers, I added a cool bottle of water to the mix and woke up New Year’s morning just fine and dandy.  But it was, after all, the first day of the New Year.  And so I took it off.  And then I took off every day since.  Because I can … I don’t answer to "the man," after all.  And because even though this Holiday season was — in many ways — quite magnificent for me, it’s like a vacation isn’t it?  It just kinda-sorta wore me down and I needed some "me" time.


So … I’ve been being quiet.  Which is not something I do very often:  quiet and leisure time with no endless lists or looming tasks hovering at my elbow.  Well, actually, the lists and tasks are ever-present … I just shoved them out of my elbow’s sphere.  Soon I will pull them back, where they will just crawl up my elbow, arm and neck and right back into my brain so that I — once again — get busy, busy, busy.  Just not yet.  I am available for calls, just laying low.  You gotta look harder and know where to look when I’m flying under the radar like this.  I’m thinking maybe Tuesday will be soon enough to jump back in full time, full force.  Tomorrow I have dinner plans which I must honor.  It’s a post-Holiday thing.


And here’s why I detest the paparazzi-fueled plastic fluff passed off as news these days.  I am reading a piece about John Travolta and Kelly Preston’s simply tragic loss, and aside the article I read …

RELATED PHOTOS:  Gwen Goes Christmas Shopping, Kate’s Christmas Tree, Nicole and Baby Harlowe Out and About.

Though I rarely say it, WTF?  First of all, how in the hell is any of that crap related to the fact that these parents lost a beloved child?  Second of all, and let me say this very loudly,  WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I GIVE A SHIT?  I mean, who reads this stuff?  Who cares about someone else’s Christmas tree or shopping or whatever?

Run!  Run, I say!  Run to the latest Frank Rich column in the New York Times, in which he runs down the low down on the Bush presidency.  You might not agree with his viewpoint, but at least he writes about things that matter and he writes it well.


And remember that word I used earler?  r – e – m – o – r – a

About that … 

1. Any of several fishes of the family Echeneididae that have a dorsal fin modified in the shape of a suction disk that they use to attach to a larger fish, sea-turtles, or ships.
Also called sharksucker or suckerfish.
2. Hindrance, drag.

From Latin, literally delay, from remorari (to linger, delay), from re- + morari (to delay), from mora (delay).

"Demur" and "moratorium" are other words that share the same root as remora. They all involve the idea of delay. Remora got their name from the belief that they slowed ships down by attaching themselves to the hull. Remora’s suction power is so strong that, in some parts of the world, lines are attached to their tails and lowered into the water to fish for sea turtles.
Remora eat scraps from the fish they attach to. But they don’t just get a free ride and free food. It’s a symbiotic relationship as they, in turn, remove parasites from their bigger buddies.

"Ryder has been a remora to the Heathers but boils over and, with Slater’s crucial aid, kills one kind of accidentally."
Ted Mahar; High School Confidential; The Oregonian (Portland); Sep 3, 1999.

So now you know about that word, which I got in my daily email, A.Word.A.Day with Anu Garg.  You can sign up for this FREE newsletter at Wordsmith.  It is so worth the cost of admission and you even get cool quotes, such as the following:

All the arguments to prove man’s superiority cannot shatter this hard fact: in suffering the animals are our equals.  ~~ Peter Singer, philosopher, professor of bioethics (b. 1946)

What a treat, what a deal, what an indulgence.

xo, Angela

Auld Lang Syne

Monday, December 31st, 2007

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o’ auld lang syne.

Despite my sassy and sometimes cocky demeanor, I do have my mushy side (leave the Bitch Slave Boys to their dreams) and Robert Burn’s song actually always causes the tears to well.  Even typing them here, the music and words ran through my head, then took a detour right straight to my heart.

I’m actually going to a party this evening, which should make your jaw drop, because New Year’s Eve with all its forced frivolity is something I normally and obstinately avoid.  Don’t worry–I won’t drink and drive.  And won’t even get drunk.  Maybe a slight buzz if the mood is right, but I do mean just right.

A fair to middling year as years go.  But I blogged and you showed up.  Some of you called and we explored your fantasies, some of you wrote emails to say hello or comment privately on a particular post, some of you commented here, some of you were silent…but I felt your presence.  

We started the year out with a (much celebrated) public lynching for chrizt’s sake.  It broke my heart.  And you understood

I got sidetracked with way too many projects and — for a while — didn’t blog as often as I should have (no new savants in 2007!  But I promise more in 2008) and you still showed up and I love you for it.

You sent me dirty pictures and I published two that I thought were super sexy here and here.  And everybody agreed with us whole-heartedly … proving that we do, indeed, know what is fucking hot! 

Our resident Pervert Savant kept us entertained with his very original and always hilarious installments of Lingerie on the Razor-Wire, The Poignant Story of a Young Pre-Operative Transsexual Forced into a Life of Twisted Sex and Degradation in the Sordid Confines of America’s Penal System!

We went to a wedding.  And I must say that you looked absolutely dapper, my darling. 

I shared with you the inter-office emails my sister, Bethany, forwarded to me — including God vs. Devil and What Men Do with Post-Its.

We went parochial and liked it so much we did it again

We got hot and bothered, down and dirty, all fired up, queer kinky and lesbian lovely.  It was downright decadent and we didn’t even have to wash out our mouths with soap afterwards.

Humiliation was the kink du jour, so I was in turn a Righteous Bitch, a Heartless Vamp, a Cuckolding Brat.  And then I laughed my ass off while you begged for mercy.  Admit it, you loved every minute of it.

I lamented and you held my hand.  I was tacky and you pretended to not notice.  I bragged about my this and that and you were happy for me. So I bragged some more and still you were happy for me.  I fucked off and you waited patiently.  I got on my soap box and you didn’t even roll your eyes.  I pontificated and you just smiled.  I bloviated and you acted like what I said mattered. I fucked around with everybody and anybody and you forgave me. Or maybe it’s just that you like to watch?

We read poetry.  We found some cuckold poetry.  And then there was the poem that made me cry the very first time read it.  And who can forget Shakespeare’s sonnets proving he was a pussy-whipped cuckold?

I kissed you.  It was very French.  Did you like it? 

I fell in love or lust  — or something in between —  over and over again …with Bitchy Jones  …with Supervert   …with Jerotic  …with Slip of a Girl  …with Sweat Shop Sissy  …with The Provocateur.

Did I say fair to middling?  On second thought, it was a simply lovely year.

xo, Angela